


That Summer Feeling

by crimsoncomradeposts



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23895841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsoncomradeposts/pseuds/crimsoncomradeposts
Summary: Summer’s swept its way into Boone County West Virginia, bringing with it sweltering temperatures and plenty’a people at the local watering holes. But while most are complainin’ about the temperatures, Clyde reckons that this is his favorite time of the year, ‘n’ that’s because it’s fair season.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Kudos: 49





	That Summer Feeling

Summer’s swept its way into Boone County West Virginia, bringing with it sweltering temperatures and plenty’a people at the local watering holes. But while most are complainin’ about the temperatures, Clyde reckons that this is his favorite time of the year, ‘n’ that’s because it’s fair season. He’s standing beside Jimmy, their eyes fixated on Clyde’s niece, Sadie, as she spins around and around on one of the rides, screamin’ her little head off and laughin’ all the same. Both of the Logan men chuckle at that while they exchange mundane conversation about their upcomin’ plans for the week. Jimmy’s mentioning somethin’ about another one of Sadie’s pageants just when Clyde’s gaze shifts over to the row of booths that house the various carnival games that he’s come to love.

“Hey, are you even listenin’ t’me?!” The back of Jimmy’s hand makes contact with Clyde’s right shoulder, grabbin’ his attention again with an exasperated scoff. “I swear Momma taught you t’listen better’n that,” he says, to which Clyde replies with nothing but silence.

Just as Jimmy goes off on another one of his tangents, Clyde’s focus shifts to the approach of their little sister, Mellie, who’s lumberin’ along with a large stuffed animal in tow. “Well, well,” says Jimmy, turnin’ to face her as Clyde now finds himself smack dab in between his siblings when Mellie finally stops beside him. “Ain’t you grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet potato.”

“Yeah, and what of it?” Mellie lifts the oversized stuffed pink triceratops she’d won only moments prior to her arrival. “I just won your daughter a little somethin’. Unlike you, standin’ there all hat ‘n’ no cattle.” Her comeback causes the left corner of Clyde’s mouth to tick upward into the smallest smile, and Jimmy scoffin’ in offense to Mellie’s retort.

Jimmy opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Clyde speaks up, his gaze shiftin’ over to his little sister. “Which booth y’get that in, Mel?”

Both of the other Logans know why he’s askin’. Clyde’s always had a knack for these carnival games, it’s what he loves most about the fair, so much so in fact that Jimmy’s surprised he’d gone as long as he had today without so much as visitin’ one. Clyde watches as Mellie thumbs over her shoulder in the direction from which she’d initially come. “Balloon dart throw. But, Clyde, they got your old arch nemesis,” she says with another shit-eatin’ grin.

Clyde’s jaw clenches, the muscles tickin’ visibly when he does so, and both Jimmy and Mellie knows what this means. They ain’t gettin’ him outta here until he either beats the Ring Toss, or the fair closes for the day (it’s always the latter). There’s only ever been one game Clyde’s never quite managed, ‘n’ it’s that one. It damn near eats him alive every year.

Muttering a barely audible ‘pardon me’, Clyde excuses himself from his siblings’ presence, eyes fixated on the rows of booths up ahead as he stalks towards the one he intends to beat if it’s the last thing he does on this planet. While he walks, his hand dips down into the front pocket of his jeans, pullin’ out a couple of fives, and when he finally reaches his destination, he slaps them down onto the wooden divide that separates him from the game. When his gaze lifts, however, he freezes in place, caught off guard by the sight of you.

You’re standin’ there, shorts showin’ off toned legs, and tank top tucked just beneath the tan money pouch that’s slung across your hips. Turnin’ away from one of the other gamers, you shift your attention to Clyde and offer him a sly grin. “Well, hi there,” you say in an overly friendly tone, fingers dancin’ along the wood divider as you stop in front of him. “It’s five tries for five dollars.”

His attention dips down to where your fingertips are barely grazing the two fives he’s set down, and only then does he move, straightenin’ his posture and removing his hands from the bills. “‘S’okay. Gimme ten dollar’s worth,” he replies with a nod.

By now, the other player has failed miserably, already having walked off to leave you and Clyde alone at the booth. When he lets go of the money, you’re quick to snatch it, stashin’ it safely away in the pouch before you turn to retrieve ten rings. Turnin’ back to him, you extend your arm forward as if to hand him the rings, but when he reaches for them, you pull them away. “Ah!” Your free hand slips into his to push it down towards the wooden divider. “Don’t be so quick to grab,” you teasingly scold him. He’s not sure if it’s the words that are leavin’ your mouth, or the way your hand’s still in his, but he can feel the tips of his ears growin’ hot ‘n’ he’s suddenly real grateful for that long hair’a his. “All’s y’got to do is get one’a them there rings over ‘n’ around the neck’a one those bottles over there.”

He notices now that as you’re speakin’, your hand isn’t leavin’ his, and he’s not sure if that’s by design or if it’s a subconscious move. He can’t help but wish that it’s the latter.

“I know how to play,” he says, breaking his own reverie. Only then do you hand over the rings to him, your hand slippin’ away from his own, the sly smile still present as you step away from him.

“Go on then, hotshot, let’s see your best.” You fold your arms across your chest and lean against the corner of the booth, eyes fluttering between Clyde and the game, watching as he lines up his first shot. He goes with the underhand shot first, the ring circling around the top of the bottle before slidin’ right off. You don’t miss the way the muscles of his well defined jaw tick in silent agitation, though he doesn’t say so much as a word. He tries a second time using the same method, and this time when the ring drops down between the bottles, he exhales a long breath through his nose, the huff makin’ you smile a little to yourself.

Clyde tries again ‘n’ again, each time gettin’ more and more frustrated with his lack of winnin’. After he misses his final shot, his hand comes slammin’ down onto the wood just as he huffs out another breath, this time a curse leavin’ right along with it. “C’mon, hotshot,” you say as you step on over to him, your hand dipping down into the money pouch to pull out a ring for yourself. With your attention still on him, and his eyes borin’ into yours, you flick your wrist to hurtle the ring towards the bottles. You make it look so effortless, the way the ring slides down overtop one of the bottles’ necks. “It really ain’t that hard,” you taunt, the teasing tone makin’ another appearance.

“How’d y’do it then,” he asks, leaning in to rest his forearms against the wood, his body hunched down to where he’s now lookin’ up at you.

You smile, and he swears it’s the prettiest fuckin’ thing he’s ever seen in all’a Boone County, and this part’a God’s green Earth is filled with plenty’a beautiful things. Your shoulders roll into a nonchalant shrug as you turn away from him momentarily to collect the rings, stuffing them all back into your pouch. Only then do you turn back to face him, resting your own forearms against the wood directly beside him, looking over to him when you do so.

“Tell you what,” you start, the smile you’d sported a mere moment ago has grown into something softer, shier. “You take me out to one’a those there stalls later, say in about an hour or so, ‘n’ I’ll tell you all about it.”

Clyde chuckles, brows raisin’ just before he makes his reply. “Y’mean like a date?”

It’s your turn to feel the heat on your face now as a flush creeps up onto your cheeks, head nodding slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I s’pose like a date.”

He’s grinnin’ now, shifting to straighten himself up to his usual height. “An hour it is then.” Clyde throws a quick wink your way before turnin’ to make his way back to Mellie, Jimmy, ‘n’ Sadie. For the first time since he’s started to play these fairground games, he walks away from the Ring Toss with a smile.


End file.
